Filed under: art, theatre, Visual Art, writing | Tags: art, Artist, playwright, residency, Visual Art, writing
The barista at one of my local coffee spots noticed I’d been gone awhile so when he asked, I told him I’d been in Crete at an artist’s residency. He’s from Cyprus so we had a good old chat about food and language and weather and then I went outside to drink my coffee and write.
Mid-write, a man walked up to me and said, “Did I overhear you say you were at an artist residency?” “Yes,” I said.
“Oh, what kind of artist are you?” he asked.
“I’m a playwright,” I said, which is, of course only part of the story but for the purpose of this artist residency I was at, it’s the simplest answer, so I told him “playwright.”
This man was visibly confused. Here he was, expecting me to say I’m a painter or a sculptor or even a printmaker or something like that but he has to re-program his brain to deal with the facts of the case. And I don’t know if this guy has a thing for visual artists so he’d come over to add one more to his collection or whatever but clearly he had some trouble understanding that a playwright might go to an artist residency in Crete. After a very long pause, he finally tried guessing – “Like, to study Greek plays or something?”
“No,” I said “I was working on a play that takes place in Crete.”
He nodded and walked away. Poor man, I seem to have broken his brain AND prevented him from adding another visual artist to his collection. Not a banner day for that guy.
But the experience did make me think about how narrow the borders of art can be for some people. Playwrights, to these sorts of people, aren’t artists and probably more broadly, writers of any other genre wouldn’t be either. Choreographers and dancers wouldn’t be on their list – neither would actors or directors. Musicians and composers would likely be a big nope for them. Filmmakers might qualify but only if they eschew narrative entirely. I have a feeling even a performance artist would not have met this guy’s criteria.
And I’m not sure quite what the connection is but I feel certain there is one between this narrow idea of what art might be, who an artist might be, and the general contempt our culture has for art in general.
One of my favorite thinkers/writers about arts issues is choreographer, Andrew Simonet. In his most recent email missive essay, he talked about the artist’s constant (and exhausting) need to prove our worth. He said most of us feel a need to justify our choice to become an artist because we feel how little the culture cares for us.
This is the foundational apology at the center of many artist lives: I’m so sorry I am called to make art. We apologize silently to loved ones, partners, employers, and families because art making holds little value in the world. How do we know that? Artists are constantly unpaid and underpaid.
Andrew Simonet
Thinking of artists as just the people who have things hanging in museums diminishes all of the rest of us – as well as those artists who have work hanging in museums!
Maybe there are a few who feel boosted up by the diminishment of the entirety of art but I think this narrow idea is good for no one.
Luckily, I’d just come from an artist residency where for two weeks no one questioned whether doing art was a good idea – so this guy’s dumb response to hearing I was at an artist residency rolled over me pretty fast but on another day, I might have taken it to heart. I might have fallen into a hole of “Plays aren’t real art” or, more likely in my case, making many 3 Am cases for why plays ARE real art and why can’t people understand that?
Yes, Mr. Eavesdropper, playwrights are also artists. Maybe go see a play, since you like listening to other people talk so much! And think about including a lot more arts in your thinking about art, howabout?
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